An excerpt by Bunny Rogers.
***
The only way you can enjoy revenge is if you are insane
At the end of the book of your life you will flip back to the first page not frantically but calmly and you will repeat a loud but mumbled, “I must be in here… somewhere…”
Together together
Together problems of the past assort themselves by color
Dad’s gift becomes as wide and empty as dad’s lake and we find ourselves engulfed again
I can’t count on nothing
I blanket personal shames in symbolic family tragedies
I receive visitors like I’m terminal
“Problems of my past”
or my words should have never been said
Demons cast underground restart and say hi again
Love of my life
I slept on the left side of the bed
ignoring the male mosquitos on the wall and accusations from friends
I held tight to Radio’s little body
All your friends have gone and we miss you
they miss radio and his little boy
Male mosquitos are completely harmless and target oranges
I slept on the left side of the bed
ignoring the guilty as charged and just as stupid
I squinted my eyes and decided to exhale
Clown by association
I used to smile to say hello
shaking your hands wildly
echoing tree stump names
I’m married
I have kids
You’d be surprised
A book in my guilt and honor
embroidered titling
glass companion
You can’t squeeze blood from a shoe
You cant squeeze blood from a stone
other times I will resentment for the same reasons
then again my drug/alcohol use is on the upswing
you cant draw blood from a shoe
or anything that pulls back or spills blood
I don’t want a man that can be mean
or find me at the cause of his anger
A pile of scraps
You can kill the beast
in no way is it in danger of going extinct
You will not get the doll in this case
you cannot kill the Beauties
You can kill the beast
You wrapped both wings and you shut your eyes
She would not have run away
if you had not frightened her
You can kill the beast
You have to break each door open
Pip the universal collaborator, teacher figure
Teach me to be strong when the characteristics
Of my victim belong to a group I hate
Never-ending teardrops but no sympathy
I’m gross I’m so gross
Curb-destined in the company of smashing neighborhood pumpkins
You lay here
Your worst nightmare came true
Paralyzed in view of my face
R.I.P. Michael S.
I’m just so happy look
I don’t want to hurt people
But I have to
Michael rest in piece
Every nosebleed I have I’ll think of you
I don’t want to hurt people anymore
But I have, I do, I will
I have to
Michael rest in piece
Every nosebleed I have I’ll think of you
Photo By: Josh*m
Some nice lines.
Mostly a babble of forced eccentricity.
there is something sparse and simple about her work which has a sense of purity to it. perhaps you lack this personally, and are unable to notice it? hence your comment
Bunny is not eccentric. She draws from a refined taste in culture that is her own. What seems like eccentricity is better described as uniqueness. To call this babbling is completely inaccurate. Every line is carefully constructed and placed. Is there some other reason you are putting these poems down?